


An Awkward Start

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Lightning Struck [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, Virginity Kink, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Tumblr prompt:"You shouldn't have heard that."Requested for Cullen/Evelyn.The Commander gets caught in an intimate moment, but the awkward situation turns out better than he anticipates.





	An Awkward Start

He can’t resist any longer.

All day, the tension has just been  _building_. Across the War Table, the Inquisitor had run her finger over her full lips as she thought, as she listened to their reports and advice. The way her brows furrowed and her lips parted slightly as she watched him report had been more than a little distracting.

His armor is stifling him, just like it had in the War Room. He begins to fumble with the buckles, needing to be free of it. He hastily shrugs out of it all, hanging it on his armor stand before he raises a hand to his brow and wipes it.

Maker, how can he sweat so much in the middle of the Frostbacks?

He’s fairly certain he knows the answer, as he once again pictures the way the Inquisitor stretched after hours of strategies and reports. Her round breasts strained against her top until he’d actually dropped the sheets of parchment in his hands.

He feels his cheeks burning as he remembers the way he imagined her naked, slinking toward him in his loft, or maybe bent over the War Table…

He’s hard again, just as he was during the meeting. But now at least he’s alone and not surrounded by three women, one of whom was the one causing the embarrassing affliction.

She’s the Herald of Andraste, and the Inquisitor. He shouldn’t think of her as he is.

Still though, he can’t stop his mind from wandering to thoughts of her, the thoughts of what he wants to do to her.

This tension is going to be the death of him.

He gives an aggravated groan and walks toward his bed, stripping his shirt off and feeling the cool night air chill his sweat slicked back. He closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the feeling, but as soon as he closes his eyes, all he sees is the smirk she gave him across the table. She rolled her eyes playfully at something Josephine said about nobles, and he had to shake himself when he realized he was staring at the sight of her smiling at him.

Like she was sharing a secret with him.

He flings himself on his bed and strips himself of his breeches, lying back on the pillows with one arm thrown over his eyes. Maker, it’s too much.

He’s still hard, still picturing her smiling, still thinking of making her lie back on the War Table so he can try to make her smile about something else.

It’s wrong, but he is only a man, and he can’t take the tension, the weight anymore.

Silently praying to the Maker for forgiveness, he reaches a hand down to his heavy cock and takes it in his hand, clenching his eyes shut. He pictures her running her finger over her lip again, tugging it gently between her teeth as she listens to him. The image makes him throb slightly and he begins to stroke himself, slowly, intently, trying to enjoy every sensation as it courses through him.

This habit is beginning to become worrying. He can’t seem to go a day without taking himself in his hand and thinking about her. Thinking about how he wishes it was her delicate hand wrapped around his thick shaft instead of his own rough, calloused one.

But he settles for the feeling of his own teasing, his own familiar touch, because he knows he can’t possibly have her. Not ever. He’s too unworthy of her.

“Evelyn,” he moans, picturing her full lips again. “Maker, Evelyn - yes -”

Something crashes in his office, sounding like something was knocked over, and he sits up. “Who’s there?” he calls, but he hears low muttered curses, a frantic soft whispering.

Maker’s breath, what is it now? he thinks and he picks his breeches up and quickly pulls them on. He’s frustrated, almost in pain, having been interrupted right before he found his release. His thoughts of her always means it takes hardly any time at all when he touches himself.

He hurries down the ladder, and notices that the books and papers on his desk are scattered, and not how he left them. There’s movement to his right, and he sees long black hair swinging in the air as someone tries to run out his office door.

“Wait,” he cries, worrying at who his unexpected guest is. He rushes forward and grabs them, pulling them back into the office so he can see who it is.

And his heart pounds against his ribs as his blood runs icy in his veins, his mouth abruptly dry and his breathing difficult.

“In-Inquisitor?” he stutters.

She’s blushing, the pink in her cheeks so bright he can see it even in the dim candlelight.

“Maker, Inquisitor, I - how long were you in here, how -”

“I’m sorry, Commander, I was - I was dropping off my report from the Hissing Wastes, I - I didn’t know - I mean, I didn’t mean to interrupt you -” she flushes even deeper, which he didn’t think was possible.

But he can feel his cheeks heating and knows his own blush has to match her own.

“I - did you -” he’s not sure how to ask her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she whispers again, and she’s looking anywhere but at him.

He groans and releases her, slapping a hand to his forehead. He suddenly has a pounding headache. “Maker’s breath, I’m - I’m so sorry, you - you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

She giggles suddenly, and he chances a peek between his fingers to see her pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling against embarrassed laughs. “No, I suppose I wasn’t.”

Something’s changed in her eyes, though, and he’s not sure what to make of it. She stares at him for a moment before she takes a few steps forward, seemingly getting more confident as she walks toward him.

“I’m - I’m kind of glad I did, though, Com - Cullen,” she says.

He raises his eyebrows and just stares at her, speechless.

She stops before him, peering up into his face. His heart is still racing, and he can’t make out the look in her nearly translucent eyes. “It’s certainly answered a question or two of mine, and made this a bit easier,” she continues.

“What - what do you mean?” he asks, and he’s certain she has to be able to see his pulse racing beneath the skin on his neck.

“Well, I’d been wondering if I was the only one,” she muses, her tone still light and airy. “At least now I know I’m not alone, that I haven’t been imagining those looks you shoot me across the War Table…”

His stomach twists into knots as he finally drops his hand to look at her unobstructed. She’s smiling at him, the corners of her mouth tugging up suggestively. She still looks like she has a secret she wants to share with him.

He watches as she approaches and begins to trail her fingers through the dusting of golden curls across his chest. She looks up into his eyes as she does so, and her lips are glistening like she licked them.

“Not the only one who does what?” he asks, his breathing ragged. He has to ask, even though he’s fairly certain he knows the answer.

He wants to hear her say it.

She hooks a hand around his neck and pulls his head down to her, making him stoop so that she can place her lips against his ear. “Not the only one who’s thinking about  _this_ when touching myself.”

She pulls back slightly so she can look at him, and his heart is hammering in his chest. The look in her eyes, the smell of rain filling his nostrils, the tantalizing sight of her full lips so close to his…

He can’t stand it anymore.

He wraps his arms around her and picks her up, crushing his mouth against hers before he carries her to his desk. Reports and books go flying as he tries to clear a space for them, his mind going black as he feels her eager response against his lips.

“Cullen,” she purrs, her voice a sinful moan.

“Evelyn, I want you - let me have you,” he groans, and as an answer her fingers fly to his breeches and begin to undo them.

He strips her out of her clothes just as eagerly, until she’s laying bare on his desk, staring up at him with her eyes full of lust that matches the intense desire coursing through his veins. He pulls her legs wide, and he can see, he can tell that she’s eager, that she’s ready for him.

“Maker,” he groans and slides a finger along her, exploring every bit of her he’s been dreaming about for months now, ever since Haven.

“Cullen, please - I want you,” she moans. “I - um -”

She hesitates and bites her lip, and he frowns. “Are you all right?”

“Just - be a little, erm,  _gentle_ at first, if you could?”

He raises his eyebrow and suddenly realizes what she means. His heart races, and he tries to smile reassuringly, but his mind is reeling.

It’s wrong how excited he feels. But he’s suddenly thinking about everything he wants to do to her, and is suddenly realizing he’s going to be the first, that she’s never experienced any of it. He wants to watch her fall apart and know that it was  _him_ who did it to her first.

He positions himself at her opening and she nods, snapping her head back against the desk as she tries to catch her breath. He slides in, slowly, letting her ease into it. The feeling is perfection, it’s everything he’s wanted, it’s better than he’s been dreaming about for months.

It makes him feel like he’s lost control. He waits only a moment before he starts moving, rolling and snapping his hips against her, thrusting as deep as he can while he touches her excited pearl. She moans, softly gasping his name as she feels him push into her with each of his thrusts forward. She doesn’t show any discomfort, instead she’s trying to brace her legs so that she can respond, and her eagerness excites him until he feels like a man possessed.

“Evelyn, I’ve - I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groans.

She giggles softly and he feels her flutter around him, getting close to the edge. “Me too, Cullen - oh  _Maker_.”

He’s gone when she loses herself, the feeling of her coming undone beneath him more than he can bear, and he finally feels the tension of the day leave him as he spills himself into her. His hot release leaves him in spurts, his whole body shuddering and his knees weakening as he finishes with her.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of their heavy breathing in his office, and then finally she starts giggling.

“I’ve never been more thankful to find myself in an awkward situation,” she giggles. “That was definitely worth getting caught eavesdropping.”

He laughs, and finds that he agrees wholeheartedly.


End file.
